


Sunlit Heights, from Life's Dissonance

by Pseudonymous (Cloudgrey)



Category: Boku dake ga Inai Machi | 僕だけがいない街 | ERASED - The Town Where Only I am Missing, 僕だけがいない街 | ERASED
Genre: Canon - Manga, Letters, M/M, POV First Person, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-05-27 14:38:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6288472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudgrey/pseuds/Pseudonymous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they pull Satoru out of the water, Kenya watches from the slope.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In which Kenya decides early that he doesn't need to believe in Satoru's time-travel bullshit to want a future with him.

 

The air seems charged with a special calm as if you waited there quietly, and only a moment before I arrived, simply turned to a shadow and let me through. Walking home the last few nights, I had the most uncertain feelings about the street just around the corner here, moving in the starlight toward my empty house. I feel that a moment prior to my making the turn, you had been there. Perhaps my nose detected your scent, perhaps the skin on the back of my hand, on my face, feels the ghost of your touch that was never there to begin with.

There is no understanding it.

As I see the white unused sidewalk upon which only my footprints can make a mark, I think of you once again. It is late into the night, and I can only explain this longing through my own exhaustion. I have had barely any sleep, waking up early to visit you and returning home at the dark hours for the same reason.

_Satoru._

Today, just like always, you looked as though you were locked in a prison of time. Engraving the sight of your interminable sleep in my memory, feeling your breaths and heartbeats, I have withstood day after day.

The doctor keeps saying it is essentially impossible for you to wake up, and whenever he says this, I feel as if my own time has stopped moving forward as well. But, just like your mother, I trudge on, refusing to give up.

Sadness, terror, despair. All sorts of emotions fill my heart, makes everyday harder to breathe. “Satoru will definitely wake up,” are the words of your mother. You know, that hope triumphs over any kind of grief because I want to talk with you again. Tell me, am I dreaming too big? What _is_ my dream anyway?

It is your future, Satoru.

(It's just a less selfish way of saying, “I want my future to have you in it.”)

 

*

 

During the beginning of fifth grade, Satoru was trying so hard to get along with everyone but even then, Kenya could see that he was only a cruel imitation of a child. Satoru cared for no one, understood nothing, and the false concern he faked was infuriating for Kenya to watch.

Surprisingly, it was also understandable.

That Satoru was loud because he was introverted, that he was overly-concerned about others because he didn’t actually care, these things made no difference to Kenya. But somewhere along the way, the line between Satoru’s pretense to care and his caring began to blur. While watching Satoru from the corner of his eye, Kenya could no longer tell the difference.

To think that all of this started with Hinadzuki (who he was sure Satoru hated), put him in disbelief.

The afternoon was cold, and Kenya’s breath frosted the air. It was Satoru’s footsteps that Kenya heard before anything else. Satoru stood before him, panting, when Kenya turned around.

“Satoru,” said Kenya, “Your interest in Hinadzuki is important to me.”

Kenya watched as Satoru took a frightful step back. He was unable to understand why Satoru looked so unproportionally scared. Tilting his head to the side, he asked, “Is there something you would like to tell me?”

Satoru scratched his chin, gaze sliding sideways. “Ah, there is nothing.”

“I see.” Kenya turned away, disappointed. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you!”

Kenya didn’t look back.

The next day, Kenya watched, unamused, as Satoru purposely lost to Hamada and got in trouble with that short tempered kid. Kenya failed to understand what Satoru was trying to achieve by letting Hamada win. It didn’t even seem like Satoru read the class anthology he had suggested.

Everything seemed to have returned to normal.

Satoru’s existence was as pointless as usual.

It wasn’t until the day of the lunch money incident that Kenya began to have doubts. And it wasn’t until the week after Kenya set up his trap that he had the courage to ask.

“Kenya, er, sorry but I lost the book I borrowed from you.”

“Satoru, could you step outside for a bit?”

They ended up by an empty staircase with Satoru staring at Kenya and Kenya staring at the rail. He wondered how he should bring up the subject without meandering so much.

Satoru stepped closer in anticipation and fear.

“Satoru, I’m glad that lately you have become real,” he said, “I mean, you used to pretend to care when you couldn’t care less. I thought it was okay in its own right. But you know, I like the present you more.”

Satoru opened his mouth and closed it, flushing to the roots of his hair. Watching him, Kenya too began to fumble for an explanation in case Satoru had it all wrong.

“I didn’t know you cared about me so much,” whispered Satoru. “I—I’m sorry about the book—”

“Never mind the book. I’m the one who should apologise. Look, the truth is, I didn’t lend you any book.” Kenya shoved his fists in his pockets, turned his back to Satoru’s panicking. “You see, I just wanted an answer that has been bugging me for a while now…”

“K-Kenya?”

Looking over his shoulder, schooling his expression into something cold and analytical, he asked, “Satoru. Who are you?”

Satoru clenched his fists, a big scowl forming on his face.

Kenya felt a dull tug in his chest that he at first mistakenly named as guilt. His eyes slid sideways as a plan began to form. “Since I feel guilty about this, I will share a secret skill with you. People often say that eyes speak volumes, but the truth is, you can read a person’s mind better when you look at them from your peripheral vision, like I am doing now.”

From a sideway glance, he could feel Satoru began to relax.

“Are you holding a grudge against me? Are you hiding something? Are you panicking?” Kenya said, the corners of his mouth twitching. “The answers are: no, yes, yes. Right?”

“You are amazing, Kenya,” Satoru blurted out.

Kenya coloured. The compliment left him wrong-footed, made him feel undeserving.

“No,” he said. “The amazing one is you, Satoru.”

“M-me?”

“I have always measured people this way. I stand at a distance to assess all kinds of situations, because I am bad at solutions,” he continued, his eyes began to sting with tears, “then you—you showed up in front of me, Satoru. It was as if you were scolding me for not taking action. Just—who on earth are you?”

 

*

 

Time flows constantly.

It doesn’t care about people who are struggling.

How many summers have passed since I moved to this city? How many times have I come and gone between home, workplace and the hospital? Here I am, the person who realises I have become a loner just because you went to sleep. Countless days I spent pursuing in vain the monster that turned you into this. Everything has lost its colour since I lost you. Who am I? What should I do? I keep asking myself.

The answer is simple: I have to stay by your side.

Even if Kayo forgets you, even if Hiromi betrays you, I will tirelessly fight for your sake, Satoru. 

 

*

 

They sat on the footbridge, the cold of the night made even their bones shiver.

“You are as smart as I remember.”

Kenya laughed. “As _you_ remember? What on earth is that supposed to mean?”

Satoru’s hand tugged at Kenya’s sleeve, bringing his arm to wrap around Satoru’s shoulder. Scooting forward, giggling into Kenya’s ear, he asked, “What if I told you I was from the future?”

Kenya flushed and pushed at him. “Don’t mess with me, man.”

“Is that what you’d say?” Satoru laughed, eyes crinkling in his honesty.

“That is exactly what I would say.”

“Then I probably shouldn’t tell you that, then.”

Kenya frowned, snagging the front of Satoru’s shirt, bringing them nose to nose. Under his palm, he could feel Satoru’s heart began to beat double. He slid his gaze sideways, saying no more than whisper, “Do you mind me being this close? Are you bothered that I stopped you from hurting Hinadzuki’s mother? Are you excited to be alone with me?”

Satoru’s breath hitched.

“The answers are: no, maybe, yes. Or am I wrong?” Kenya asked, glancing back to Satoru’s rapidly colouring face.

“You’re—you’re not wrong,” said Satoru, swallowing hard, lifting his hand to wrap around Kenya’s fist around his shirt.

Feeling Satoru’s shallowing breath on his face, Kenya leaned forward, letting go of him. But Satoru remained plastered to him, their hands trapped between their bodies. He saw himself in Satoru’s eyes, like two moondrops, glazed over with an emotion Kenya could now recognise as desire.

“Satoru.”

“Yeah,” Satoru asked, more lips movement than word.

“You can kiss me if you want.”

Satoru sucked in a sharp breath, surging forward even as he said, “Is that—all right with you?”

Kenya didn’t have time to answer.

_It’s all right, but—_

They are barely a dozen years old, and their admiration for each other shouldn’t have turned out this way. There were so many things wrong with how their friendship played out.

When they kiss, there was no gentle testing of the waters, no shy sharing of inexperience. It was unbelievable; Satoru wanted Kenya’s mouth like a dying man needed breath, nipping hard enough at Kenya’s lip to make him yelp. Satoru was ruthless, swiping his tongue into Kenya’s mouth and running it along the roof of his mouth, a sensation that Kenya felt all the way to his toes.

“Hey, wait—”

Satoru’s hands slid down to Kenya’s hips, yanking him onto his lap, taking charge of the kiss, cupping Kenya’s face and wrecking his hair.

“Kenya _,_ ” Satoru breathed, rolling his hips against Kenya, like he had done it a thousand times and Kenya had to break from him, had to throw his head back and gasp.

“ _Satoru, stop._ ”

Satoru stilled, head falling onto Kenya’s shoulder, panting. His arms fell limply at his sides, nose pressed against Kenya’s chest, over his pounding heart. Kenya was afraid to move, afraid to set Satoru off in several different directions, and he wasn’t sure which he was most unprepared to handle.

“Satoru—”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to,” Satoru said, his voice cracking. “That was—unacceptable. I shouldn’t have… Why did I even—”

“It’s fine,” Kenya wheezed. “Just—you were…”

“It’s not fine,” said Satoru. “Not at all.”

Kenya cautiously placed a hand on Satoru’s shoulder, wondering why he was the one consoling his friend when it was Satoru who went too far. Satoru slid out from under Kenya, and wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“It’s as if you are really from the future,” Kenya tried to joke, the words coming out a little dry, “that was very adult-like of you.”

Satoru shrugged off his hand. “What the hell do I want from a kid?”

The words pierced straight through Kenya’s chest. He staggered at the weight of the implication, felt a sort of foreign anger boiling inside his blood, transforming him into an unreasonable child, overruled by stupid emotions.

“ _Excuse you,_ ” his voice cracked like a whip, making even Satoru flinch. “Don’t you and your half-assed resolve make you the kid in this situation?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“Your lips are bleeding, Kenya.”

Kenya slapped away Satoru’s reaching hand.

“Tell me what you mean.”

“What do I mean? You are eleven. I am twenty-eight. It was wrong for me to—”

“Are you still trying to convince me you’re from the future?” Kenya stared in offended disbelief.

“I _am_ from the future,” said Satoru with deadly seriousness.

Kenya wondered if he should just leave Satoru and his delusions there in the cold. This was ridiculous. He shouldn’t have followed him here. What the hell was he thinking?

“All right,” said Kenya, standing up. “Good luck with that.”

He turned on his heel and was about to leave when—

“Hiromi and Hinadzuki died,” said Satoru.

Kenya froze.

“I couldn’t save them. This isn’t just some sort of game to me,” he continued, voice thick with a grief too old to understand. “In 2006, the killer came after my mother, and I was framed for her murder. Hinadzuki was killed by the same killer, and then Hiromi was killed to cover up the killer’s trail. Yuuki-san was framed for their murders—he died at the age of forty-two on death row.”

When Kenya turned around, his eyes widened at the wet misery that fell from Satoru’s face. He was standing before him, fists clenched and shoulders shaking.

“This—this is my third time reliving this timeline. I can’t let them die again. You asked for the truth, Kenya. And I am telling you,” Satoru said, “are you not going to believe me?”

Kenya felt as though the stars had been pulverised, and that in the morning the earth would be covered in their dust. That was his idiotic thought as they stood there shivering in the middle of the footbridge.

His feet stepped forward on their own. Shoving his hands into his coat, he said, “Let’s just say you are telling the truth. What are we like in the future?”

“We never kept in contact.”

This startled him more than anything else. He found himself with nothing to say.

“I moved to the city,” continued Satoru. “I work at this pizza delivery place because I was struggling as a manga artist. Then I got into an accident while trying to save a kid from getting hit by a truck. And I—I also wear glasses.”

“You would look stupid in glasses.”

Satoru let out a choked sound.

Kenya moved toward him. He reached out to him, lifted Satoru’s chin with his hand. Leaning down, he whispered, “I’m going to kiss you, _old man_. Don’t do anything stupid.”

 

*

 

They pulled Satoru out of the water, and Kenya could only watch from the slope. As he stood there, the icy night sky over the river screamed at him. There was a tremendous ripping sound as if two giant hands torn ten thousand leagues of black linen down the seam. Kenya was torn apart. He felt his chest chopped down and split open.

He stood transfixed as the medical team carded Satoru’s body into a white van. Satoru’s face was like a snow-covered island upon which rain might fall, but it felt no rain; over which clouds might pass over their shadows, but felt no shadow. When the paramedics pried his eyes open to shine light into them, they were all glass.

Kenya had worn his happiness like a mask and Satoru had run off with it and drowned. There was no way of getting it back.

 

*

 

Kenya dropped the house key on the dresser by the entranceway. Stepping inside, it was like coming into the cold marbled room of a mausoleum after the moon has set. Complete darkness, not a hint of the silver world outside; the windows tightly shut, the chamber a tomb-world where no sound from the great city could penetrate. The room was not empty.

“Happy new year, Satoru,” said Kenya, “Your mother is still off at work.”

Giving a quick glance at the heart monitor, Kenya leaned down and pecked Satoru on the cheek.

“We managed to raise enough money for you to sleep a little longer,” he whispered. “But wake up soon, okay?”

Satoru slept on, still locked in the prison of time.

_Happy 2000._

This night was no different from the previous ones. Kenya returned to an empty house after dinner with Satoru’s mother and Sawada-san. Kenya wished he could find a hobby and use the night usefully. The thoughts started creeping in, a universe of cruelty in which presumptions and half-truths.

When it finally happened, Kenya was again facing the windowless part of his room, counting the lost battles against the elusive serial killer. The ghost of a hand uncovering his body left him frozen. He thought of himself as if in a dream. Everything was possible. In a matter of minutes, Kenya was panting and forcing his eyes shut, because he could not explain this to himself.

There was someone, doing this to him, making him gasp, shudder and moan, opening his thighs and lustfully nipping at his neck.

No, this was just his rampant, feverish, delirious imagination.

There was not a sound coming from this imaginary being, which now seemed to have straddled him in place, tormenting him with bruising kisses. It kissed a lot like Satoru.

_Satoru._

 

*

 

When Satoru finally wakes up, Kenya was not the first person to see him. Not even close. From a range of doctors, nurses and physicians, it made sense that as a friend Kenya would stop by with Hiromi. Satoru’s mother threatened them by pain of death not to ask unnecessary questions that involved the case that had put on hold for fifteen years. To Kenya, all the things related to the case were necessary.

Kenya handed Satoru’s mother two books he had written for Satoru, depicting everything that had happened in between the time of his sleep. He knew that she wouldn’t pass them to Satoru, but Kenya gave them to her anyway.

Satoru was like a corpse, barely able to sit up on his hospital bed. He watched Kenya with glazed eyes, hollowed face twitching as he raised one trembling hand to feel his own mouth. “I—I remember our kisses.”

Kenya let out a noise that wasn’t entirely human, clenching his hands on his knees, feeling Hiromi’s stares burn holes at his profile. The first visit got awkward after that.

The second visit was also awkward as it was right after Satoru found out Hiromi and Kayo had a child. They didn’t talk much even though it seemed Satoru had a lot to say. After his third uneventful visit where he brought along Sawada-san, Kenya was wise enough to come alone the next time.

He arrived just as Satoru finished his therapy, and volunteered to wheel him back to his room.

“How was your physical therapy?”

“Fine,” said Satoru curtly.

They stopped by the elevator and waited. Kenya turned Satoru’s chair around so that they were facing each other, with his friend staring up at him. Not many weeks had passed, but Satoru looked a whole lot healthier now, with his cheeks finally filling out and his voice growing in strength again.

“What is it?” Kenya asked.

“Mum told me you visited almost everyday while I was asleep,” said Satoru.

“That is true.”

“You are all grown up now.”

“So are you.”

Satoru looked away. “Not as well as you.”

“Give yourself some credit. You just woke up,” said Kenya. When Satoru still wouldn’t look at him, he slouched on the chair handle and said, “Satoru, I don’t care either way, you know. You waking up was all I needed.”

“Do you mean it?”

“I can prove it.”

When Satoru looked up, surprised, Kenya left a chaste kiss on Satoru’s lips. After a second of savouring, Kenya pulled away, just enough to brush his mouth against Satoru’s ear. “I have worked too hard to raise money to support you, I have worked too many hours into finding your killer, I have invested too much of my heart and my time into _our_ future to allow you to doubt even for one second that I no longer care. I am not going to let you go, Satoru.”

After a tense moment, Satoru’s hand found his tie — not his chest to push him away — pulling him down and his mouth was back on his.

Kenya made some incredibly inhuman noise and kissed him again and again, not waiting for Satoru to kiss back. Kenya snaked his arms behind Satoru, grabbing onto the metal handles, one knee on the edge of the seat in between Satoru’s thighs.

When they got their fill of each other’s mouths, Kenya pulled back enough to say, his voice so breathless that Satoru’s eyes darkened at the sound, “You’ve practically sacrificed your life to protect everyone. Satoru, isn't it time someone took care of you?"

Satoru tugged at his tie, peppering kisses along his jaw, murmuring, “Are you stupid? You were the one who’s been protecting me for the past fifteen years. Shouldn’t _I_ be the one taking care of you?”

They breathed against each other with so much love, so much lust, that were interrupted by a loud cough. Satoru immediately let go, and Kenya jumped back like he had just been scalded.

Dr Kitamura stood inside the elevator, holding the open button, face slightly flushed and sweating. “This is great and everything but can you please not do this while blocking the elevator? Some people are actually trying to get to work.”

Kenya wordlessly moved aside.

Dr Kitamura slipped past him, but before he turned the corner, he looked back and said, “I didn’t say this before since I didn’t think it would be a problem. I am advising Satoru against any strenuous activities before he fully recovers. Or at least until he regains full control of his lower regions.”

Satoru cradled his face in his hands and moaned in embarrassment.

“You can just say his legs, you know,” said Kenya, unimpressed, “You’re just trying to make it sound more awkward than it actually is.”

“Your mother is concerned, Satoru, over this fast-developing relationship with your dashing lawyer friend,” said Dr Kitamura. “In return for my allegiance, she promised me home-cooked curry.”

When the doctor was gone, Kenya wheeled Satoru into the elevator, patting his shoulder consolingly. “It’s fine, isn’t it? Hey, you’ve already lived as a twenty-five year-old once. You should be used to this sort of embarrassment.”

“Shut up, Kenya,” bit out Satoru. “I’m technically only twelve years old.”

Kenya chuckled. “It seems you are a child only when it’s convenient for you. What happened to wanting to take care of me?”

 

*

 

I used to hear the sound of your footsteps without much thought.

After a long silence, the sound I heard today showed me this: everyday life is a treasure. It hasn’t changed since we were little. It didn’t change while you were sleeping. And it’s still the same even now: I want to exist in your future.

The time you lost won’t return, but I believe you at least elevated the pain of those who were framed. For only giving you the roles that resulted in your loss, I am sorry, Satoru.

“You don’t look as stupid as I thought with those glasses.”

You laugh, as if saying, _You still remember that day, Kenya?_

The autumn leaves blow over the rooftop in such a way that made you, who is moving towards me, seem fixed on the spot.

You smile at the sky and lean back against the rail.

“This is the second time I am reliving 2006, but it’s so different from before.” You sigh. “Say, Kenya. Do you think we got closer to the heroes we respected when we were young?”

I take your hand and hold it tight.

“Yeah. It’s embarrassing to call ourselves heroes, but I want to believe so.”

_(Back then, I had some words I couldn’t say, some promises I couldn’t keep, some friends I troubled. I looked over these things one by one and realised that in this timeline those whom I cared for are tenaciously alive. And it was you, Kenya, who were able to hold us together.)_

Because you never gave up, I am able to be here with you.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

This is Pseudonymous.

I've posted this on my other story but I don't want to assume that you read everything I write. So, here's the news: I've compiled all my ERASED fanfictions into one book. And it's **free**  to download! At least for now. So you probably better hurry. Haha. I've set up the download page, so feel free to tap into this link: **[God Doesn't Want Us](https://app.convertkit.com/landing_pages/88621)**  to get your free copy. It's an ePUB file which will make it easy for you to read mobile. And you can also read it on your computer. If it doesn't work, feel free to email me or leave a comment, and I'll send you the PDF version!

The anthology consists of 'Sunlit Heights, From Life’s Dissonance', 'God Doesn't Want Us' and 'There Isn't a Single Soul in Paradise'.

**Sunlit Heights, From Life's Dissonance**

> Satoru x Kenya; PG-13; 3,900 words  
>  When they pull Satoru out of the water, Kenya watches from the slope. Kenya decides early that he doesn’t need to believe in Satoru’s time-travel bullshit to want a future with him.

**God Doesn’t Want Us**  

> Satoru x Yashiro, Hiromi; NC-17; 4,200 words  
>  In 1988, Satoru escapes his fated coma by playing a little differently. “It’s exactly because I love you that I must destroy you.” He tries to make something out of his relationship with Yashiro—although, hold that thought.

**There Isn't a Single Soul in Paradise**

> Satoru x Kenya; PG; 1,500 words  
>  The reasons Satoru decides to stay. During his coma, Satoru haunts.

**[Download the book here.](https://app.convertkit.com/landing_pages/88621) **

**Author's Note:**

> Without any spoilers, these are the differences the manga and the anime you should probably take note:
> 
> 1\. Satoru wasn't going to push Kayo's mother down the stairs, he was going to shock her with a taser but failed.  
> 2\. During the time of Satoru's coma, Kenya wrote two books for Satoru, explaining the events that transpired.  
> 3\. He gave those books to Sachiko, who later gave them to Satoru after much contemplation.  
> 4\. Hiromi is not fat. (It's just something I wanted to point out, that damn trap.)  
> 5\. It was Airi who stopped the photographers, not Yashiro, from taking pictures. (She punched them.)  
> 6\. Satoru fell into a second coma after the incident with the photographers.  
> 7\. Kenya became a lawyer because he wanted to solve Satoru's case, and Hiromi became a doctor because he wanted to save Satoru. (Tears in my eyes.)  
> 8\. To keep Satoru alive, the students in Satoru's class raised money to fund for Satoru's medical fees. That was how loyal they were.  
> 9\. When he woke up from his second coma, Satoru got his memories back after walking all the way in crutches to find Airi.  
> 10\. Yashiro had a rough childhood which consisted of getting blackmailed by his own brother, being forced to lure girls to the storehouse so his brother could rape them, and then he ended up murdering his own brother. (Y)  
> 11\. The thing about Kenya's sideway glance and his secret in reading people are not made up by me, they are from the manga.
> 
> Cheers!
> 
> Some truly beautiful descriptions are from Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451 and the manga's inner monologues.  
> Been writing this all night yet it seems I am not quite aboard this Satoru/Kenya ship as I thought I was.  
> Title is from Oscar Wilde.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Встречая солнце, я достигал вершин](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6684748) by [rivaihatesyou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivaihatesyou/pseuds/rivaihatesyou)




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